foreign aristocrat Sometimes I don't know whether I'm better off playing the foreign aristocrat who sits back and demands what he wants because the people around him are poor, or whether I should try instead to be a "friend of the people" who shares in their joy and suffering and considers himself to be a part of the family. Most often I feel caught in the middle, aware that solidarity can only go so far. After all, my friends are established here. They have their homes, their families, their roots. If I were to disappear tomorrow, they would go on with their lives, whereas I, for all my desire to integrate, have the one great advantage they long for and can't attain, freedom of movement. This is an imbalance, and it's not really clear who has the advantage, my friends with their roots here, or me with my money, my passport and my Western education. Still, it makes anything we try to do together seem like a bit of a stretch. For my Moroccan friends, there must always be the temptation to see me as a temporary resource they should exploit fully before it goes away. It's reasonable for them to assume that whatever my good intentions, I don't share their commitment to care for their sick mother, or help their sister find a job. Nor is it logical for them to assume that I would integrate myself to the point of giving up the liberties that come with being an American, just so I can share their struggle from the inside. Cooperation is only possible as a meeting of interests, and when the interests aren't really the same, the potential for exploitation creeps in on one side or the other. From my end of things, I'm hungry to attain the degree of intimacy with Moroccan culture that is automatic to someone growing up here. To an outsider, the lack of transparency in the culture can be frustrating. One learns about some things quickly, such as couscous or the djelleba, but the real secrets lie much deeper. It is impossible even to know where to begin, which questions to ask. What is the real significance of Gnawa music, or the philosophy of Moulay Abdeslam? Someone told me that to grasp the evolution of Moroccan culture in its complete context, it would be necessary to master the history of the entire Arab world, the evolution in Islamic thinking from the time of the Prophet to the present, and the history of Western colonialism. Such an effort is possible, perhaps, but it is too much for one person. This situation is not helped by the fact that most Moroccans today are unable to speak intelligently about their culture. What is the origin of a particular legend, or style of dress, or religious tradition? No one seems to know. The official version of history remains silent on many subjects, and on others it distorts the facts. Yet this lack of self-awareness isn't really the Moroccans' fault. Their culture has evolved over centuries, and is integrated into the rhythm of their daily life. The only way to know it is to live it. Even for a native, it must seem as if the real meanings only reveal themselves little by little. No doubt this is true of any culture as rich and layered, even contradictory, as this one, whether here or in China. While a native Moroccan may at times know less about his own culture than I do, unlike him I can't fall back on the habit of being Moroccan. His mother's gestures and expressions, her clothes and the food she makes, are part of his childhood memories. He can always retreat into the comforting embrace of tradition, which is familiar even when it is only poorly understood. As an outsider, I don't have that choice. What for him is everyday life, for me risks turning into an anthropological spectacle. Because of this imbalance of interests, there is always the possibility for exploitation. The natives are putting on a show for my amusement, and it is necessary to pay for this, but in what coin?
	location: Larache, Morocco date: March 16, 2004 average rating: [not rated] your rating (0-10):